


- breaking the girl ( 𝐀. 𝐊. )

by dissidentvedder



Series: 𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐬 [3]
Category: Red Hot Chili Peppers (Band)
Genre: Depression, F/M, Gen, M/M, Suicide, Trigger Warning!, gender neutral!reader, i tried to make the reader as gender neutral as possible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:28:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27803056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dissidentvedder/pseuds/dissidentvedder
Summary: the first and last time they kissed.INSPIRATIONS - breaking the girl by rhcp and @fanficy-promptsTHIS FIC CONTAINS death (SUICIDE), swearing, sadness/depression.
Relationships: Anthony Kiedis/Reader
Series: 𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐬 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1980919





	- breaking the girl ( 𝐀. 𝐊. )

  * [**_ADD YOURSELF TO MY TAGLIST!_**](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fforms.gle%2FNLgYK4p3oHA7YcZv9&t=ZTM5OWFjMzRjMDNkZGI0MjJkMWZmNmFiMGYxZTMwYzQ3MWNhMTU0MCw3ZGFkY2FiYzYzMzJkZmVjYWQxMTIxMzhkOWQ3YzRmNWNlODJjNDA2&ts=1602009530)
  * the first and last time they kissed.
  * **INSPIRATIONS -** _breaking the girl_ by rhcp and [@fanficy-prompts](https://tmblr.co/mj9an8EsK3OSAo5czue5GWg)
  * **THIS FIC CONTAINS** death **_(SUICIDE)_** , swearing, sadness/depression.
  * **A/N -** layout by [@adoresobs](https://adoresobs.tumblr.com/)! 



  


keeping your head down, the rain beat down on the red raincoat you slipped on that morning, the usually sunny l.a. sky now a dark gray, a cool breeze brushing against your crimson cheeks. your school things were most likely getting wet, but at some point, you stopped caring, much like many other things you once cherished, which now seemed bleak in your reddened eyes. everything was covered in a constant cover of gray, your optimistic outlook on life now turning into those of your mother’s. why hadn’t you said yes to going to jessica’s? why were you the one to find your mother face down in a pool of her own blood? why did she have to take her own life in such a horrendous way? _why hadn’t you noticed before?_

you shoulders hung with the weight of your guilt despite your family and multiple psychiatrists telling you that you had done nothing wrong. they told you your mother was at fault for not telling you, for not getting the help she needed and deserved, for leaving you behind to live with your grandmother. how you hated to look into your grandmother’s eyes since the day it happened. she tried to be strong for you, you could tell, but once you looked at her, she burst into tears. every time she looked at you, she saw her daughter. your mother’s eyes were your own, and each day she saw the life be sucked out of them much like she saw within your mother’s. she was afraid of losing you too, making appointments with a therapist in order for you to talk about your thoughts, your feelings, but each time, you just brought over a drawing. one that was done in simple India Ink, the graphite of a pencil not dark enough to show your true emotions. you refused to talk, afraid that if you opened your mouth, you would talk about everything and would never shut up. 

the more drawings you gave, the more and more the therapist noticed how darker and more obscene they got. 

_your world was dead._

you envied your aunts, uncles, and cousins for still having their mom, hated the way that your school friends would talk about their parents, how they father gave them this and how their mother gave them that. after christmas break, everyone began talking animatedly about what they received for christmas, whether it was money, a new rotary telephone (one girl got a canary yellow one, just like she wanted), or new clothes. one of your classmates turned to you, “what did your parents give you for christmas?” 

how were you going to tell them that your mother committed suicide and your father was an alcoholic who walked out of your life years ago? you just laid your head on your arms, wanting the teacher to begin the lesson so you didn’t have to bear the embarrassment of people bugging you about the presents. yes, you did get presents from your family in order to get your mind of your mom, but it was sort of alright until one of your aunts gave you a perfume bottle, and upon closer inspection, you noticed that it was your mother’s signature scent. 

you had run to your room, tears leaving wet tracks on your cheeks, sobs racking through your body as thoughts of your mom brought back painful pangs in your chest, your heart beating wildly against your ribcage. a copy of maya angelou’s _i know why the caged bird sings_ sat on your night table, driving you insane at the orange cover, the black bird in mid-flight. picking it up, you chucked it at the wall, the bookmark flying out from its designated spot. _the caged bird doesn’t sing_ , you thought. _the caged bird dies_. 

for years this continued, the book still on the exact spot it had landed when you threw it, collecting dust as your room stayed in pristine condition. if it weren’t for your family coming over to help you, it would be a pigsty by now. somehow, however, you were able to control your emotions a little better, making the days seem a little easier and more bearable to go through, and the thoughts of your mother’s dead body were pushed to the back of your mind.

in your sophomore year of high school, you had met anthony, a charismatic senior with a crooked smile and a trick up his sleeve. on days where you were not able to control your emotions as well, he held you, letting you cry into the crevice where his shoulder and neck meet, his hands cradling your head and rubbing your back. he managed to make you talk after years of being known as the mute, his little jokes and twisted tales able to rise a small out of your once glued lips. something about him made you feel warm inside. people always said that the person you loved the most will make butterflies come alive in your belly, but you realized that wasn’t the truth for you. every time you thought about or spoke to anthony, your heart swelled even more, leaving you with a euphoric feeling as you held on to either him or the sweatshirt he gave you on an unusually cold day. perhaps it was his nonchalant demeanor or his cocky attitude, or even the musky, vanilla smell that was characteristically him, but every part of you fell in love with him and his existence. he was an angel come to life.

it was his graduation day when he first kissed you. once caps were thrown and pictures were taken, he ran up to you, grabbed your cheeks, and planted his lips on yours. his lips were so soft, in contrast to the muscular body he hid beneath the button-up shirt he wore, you melted into his arms, pressing yourself against him, grabbing on to the lapels of his shirt. you had waited for this day for what? three weeks? six months? a year? no matter how long, you felt all your nerves release as he pulled away, staring at you with such love and adoration, it looked like he was staring at a goddess come to life. 

your breaths mingled, brushing softly over the soft skin of your lips, minty as you brought him back in, deprived of something you longed for for a while. this was a seal of your relationship. at some point, you began to wonder if you were just another one of anthony’s playthings, ready to be thrown out the second he got bored of you. 

the sun shone brightly on the two of you, a moment of celebration only you two could see.

it was a december when he broke up with you. it was in the year of what? 1995? ‘96? you didn’t remember, and didn’t want to remember, as your heart continued to break as those last moments replayed in your head like a broken record. 

you had been there for him through _everything_. 

when the band was first formed, their first record, their first live national tv performance, hillel’s death, anthony’s sobriety. _everything._ yet he deemed you no longer important in his life as he broke your heart. somehow, despite your tear-streaked face, he continued to say that he no longer loved you, that he had fallen in love with another. he had kissed you one last time that day. held you close, hands on your cheeks, warming them even more, and you could feel it. there was no more passion left. it seemed like to him, you were an obligation, a setback in life. no longer did his heart beat for you. how could he have fallen in love with another when you had given him everything you had? your virginity, your heart, your mind, your love. 

he just took it for himself and now… you were being thrown to the streets. god, you didn’t go to college, had no job, no money of your own, purely depending on him, and he gladly supported you through the years, giving you an allowance basically. you had to move in with your grandmother again as you took up classes at the local community college in cyber… something. again, you stopped caring about the world. what had you done in order for him to fall out of love with you? you were supportive of his decision, supportive of him when he was going through withdrawal symptoms when he stopped taking drugs, there by his side again when he relapsed, warning him of the consequences and reminding him of his hard work years prior. 

laying down on the bed, you took a deep breath as your hand was placed over your heart, imagining the broken pieces still trying to keep you alive. with anthony, the once gray world turned bright again, optimism making every day more bearable until you no longer had to bear it. 

underneath you sat the sheets that anthony once slept under, holding you close to his body as the two of you had your usual late-night talks, talking about the future, about one day marrying each other, having children, grandchildren, and growing old together. now, these sheets held tears and broken promises whispered long ago, long when you were still young and a new optimistic. 

_i know why the caged bird sings_ stares at you from the floor.

_the caged bird does not sing. the caged bird dies._


End file.
